


Contingency

by amidtheflowers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, North & South AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks at her and sees the universe. She looks at him and tries to ignore him.</p>
<p>A North & South story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contingency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaTessitrice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaTessitrice/gifts).



> Hello! This is officially my second wintershock fic, and another prompt fic, this time from my friend LaTessitrice.
> 
> I must preface this by saying this fic is an adaptation of the BBC miniseries _North & South_. I took a lot of liberties in reinterpreting it to something I wanted to share with everyone that could still be somewhat close to canon. This fic, if it follows the episode format of the T.V. series, will be four chapters long. Four very long chapters. 
> 
> That said, you DON’T have to have watched _North & South_ to follow/understand this story! Completely independent! Simply reimagined and inspired by this brilliant series, and if anything hopefully it encourages you to watch it, because it is amazing and has much more social and political discourse in it (and cute, agonizing fluff moments) than I could ever live up to. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**-:-**

**Chapter One: Of Prejudice**

**-:-**

Darcy wonders briefly if things may have been different if she hadn’t left the house and stayed with Gran instead.

The grass is always tempting. The Lewis property is vast—it had to be, having been theirs for three generations. Gran always complained about too much land to take care of and too little house to live in, but Darcy likes it better this way. In the summers the grass is warm and thrumming, the sweet scent of honeysuckle and lavender in the air like old friends. They’re all there, the warmth and the smells and the cloudless night sky above, giving Darcy a small window of the cosmos that her lawn could offer.

So when Darcy’s diploma arrives in the mail and she pulls it free from the glossy, cardboard Fed-Ex packaging, she stares at it for a second before tossing it next to her sock drawer and trekking to her Spot—past the row of bushes with the little anthill tucked between them, beside a large tree whose youth has long faded. She plops down flat on her back and squints at the brilliant blue sky, wondering why victory is none the sweeter.

Luckily for her, Jane always makes it all somewhat worth it.

“Darcy. Normally when people get their college diploma they don’t sulk.” Jane’s voice is amused. Darcy makes a face at the phone, knowing Jane would sense it even she can’t see it.

“Six years, Jane. Six years, two internships, and a double major in Political Science and Biotechnology, and Culver couldn’t write it on the diploma. It feels cheap.”

“Nobody writes the majors or minors on the diploma. Besides, no one’s going to ask to see your diploma anyway. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Exactly!” Darcy exclaims. “What harm was there in just printing the reason I had to take two extra years of school?”

“Technically it’s eight total if you count the two years of leave you took after the Puente Antiguo incident to intern for me.”

“I’m not counting that. Nope. In my head I’m still twenty-three and can stay up past ten without caffeine.”

She hears Jane snort. “Yeah and I’m still dating the god of thunder with a Nobel Prize. Gotta wake up and smell the thermonuclear fusion.”

“Gross. Please, no more science speak for at least a week. A _week_ , Jane. If I have to see or hear anything about reactions, I’ll explode. And that’s not an opening for another science pun!”

“Who’re you talking to? Do you even _know_ me?” Jane says incredulously.

Darcy sighs. “Unfortunately.” She bites her lip as she twists a blade of grass between her fingers. “Speaking of, you lucked out. You and Thor were like, epic together, right? Yet you just…both realized what your relationship really was, and that was honestly the cleanest break I’ve ever seen. It’s been more than a year I’m still in awe.”

Jane makes a noise, and Darcy can imagine the shrug that goes with it. “It really wasn’t that bad, Darcy. I don’t see what’s so special about how we ended things.”

“I dunno either,” Darcy says honestly, watching clouds drift lazily against the breeze as she plucks a blade of grass from the ground. “Guess it’s just nice to see two people have that and still be friends. It’s just…nice.”

“I guess?”

Darcy hums. Jane’s voice lowers. “Have you…you know.”

“Ugh,” Darcy groans, rolling over in the grass to bury her face in her elbow.

“Darcy!”

Darcy cringes. “I’m sorry! It’s not like I haven’t told Ian I’m just not interested that way, but he’s a good friend. See that’s the difference—you and Thor broke up but you’re actually, genuinely great friends. Ian and I are fun and he destressed me when I was having a hard time at Culver, but he keeps taking this as a long-distance relationship instead of a friendship. I almost regret taking him as our intern when the whole Dark Elves thing happened in England. I don’t know what else to do…but…” Darcy sighs quietly, guilt ebbing its way into her voice. “I’m too selfish to not be his friend.”

“Mm. Well it’s not like he’ll fly out from England to see you, so I think you’re in the clear.”

Darcy grimaces. “God, don’t even joke about that. I made that mistake last week and he hasn’t shut up about it since.” Darcy paused. “I’m such a terrible friend, Jane.”

“You are not,” Jane says immediately. “Darcy. You’re not. You’ve been through a lot and you’re getting through it.”

“I guess so,” Darcy says quietly.

“How’s your grandmother?”

Darcy smiles a little. “She’s doing better. She’s been sleeping a lot. Doctor says that’s normal for people her age, but I keep trying to remind him that she’s a Lewis and our genes don’t work the same.”

Jane snorts. “I think it’s just your gran. You’re not nearly as tough.”

Darcy makes a sound of mock hurt. “Um? Have you forgotten what I can do with a taser?”

Darcy doesn’t hear what Jane says next, for a figure emerges from the line of bushes that edge around her house, and walks towards her. At the excited wave and the shout of her name, Darcy’s heart sinks.

 “Oh my god,” Darcy whispers, horrified. “Oh my god.”

“Darcy?”

“I’ll—I’ll have to call you back, Jane. Hold that thought.”

“You’ll come by later, right—?”

Darcy doesn’t hear what Jane says next. She jams her finger on the end button and sits up, brushing bits of grass from her shirt.

“Ian, holy shit,” Darcy exclaims, moving to stand as he reaches her.

“No, no, sit!” Ian splays his hands reassuringly, and kneels down next to her. Darcy shifts back to sit on the grass.

“Did Gran tell you I was out here?”

Ian shakes his head, a little confused. “No, I didn’t see her. I figured you’d be here since it’s what you’ve mentioned a thousand times before. Cool, right?”

“Yeah,” Darcy forces a smile. “Ian…I just. Have to ask. What’re you doing here?”

Ian’s eyes brighten. “You said last week it’d be awesome if I came to Virginia, didn’t you?”

Darcy stares at him incredulously. “Yeah. I did. In a text. As a joke. I didn’t think you’d actually fly in from London to see me!”

“C’mon, Darce,” he knocks his shoulder against hers. “It’s been three bloody years and it’s the summer. We were bound to see each other again, and as we both just finished school…”

“Speak for yourself,” Darcy rolls her eyes and takes the liberty to lean back against the grass, watching the leaves on the tree looming above them rustle gently. “I’m probably going to be in some type of school until I’m in my thirties.”

Ian nods, and Darcy remembers then the reason she struggled to let go of him when she left England with Jane and resumed her studies at Culver. Ian is a damn good listener. He’s the closest friend she still has left, the only one who cares, genuinely cares what she thinks. Validation. And Darcy…well, she needs that.

“Have you thought about international schools, then?”

“Really, Ian? Really?”

“What?” Ian tries to look innocent. It doesn’t work well.

Darcy gives him a pointed stare. Ian huffs. “Don’t give me that look, Darcy.”

“Ian. You know I’m already starting in September at Culver again.”

“Yeah, as an R.A.,” Ian frowns. “You could work full-time anywhere else, couldn’t you? And then pick whatever school you want to do your masters.”

Darcy shakes her head in disbelief. “No, Ian, I can’t. I’d be making a decent amount of money here and could stay local. That’s the whole point of taking a gap year—to save up and figure things out. And that I’ll be working for Jane again…that means everything to me.” She gives him a hard look. “I’m not doing international schools, dude. It just isn’t right for me, I know it.”

Ian nods again, glancing down. Guilt creeps up in Darcy’s chest. She hates being harsh, but this argument isn’t a new one. And Darcy isn’t known to be very patient. “So,” Darcy attempts at a cheerful tone, “any plans while you’re here in Ye Olde Virginia?”

Ian exhales somewhat shakily, and instantly Darcy is alert. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He forces a smile. “You’re not exactly making it easy here, Darce. Our future together’s gonna stay grim if we don’t at least live in the same continent at some point.”

“You could come in the U.S.—wait, _what?_ ” Darcy stares at him, trying to catch the unspoken words hidden in his eyes, but he won’t meet her gaze. “Our future?”

Ian shrugs, picking the grass in front of him. “Well yeah. Can’t do a long-distance thing forever, right?”

_Fuck. Please, don’t let this be what I think this is_. “Ian,” Darcy says very quietly, forcing him to meet her eyes, and says slowly, “You know we’re just friends. Right?”

What she hopes to see is the familiar crinkle in his eyes as he laughs her words off. What she actually sees is deep and utter confusion.

“Ha, ha. Hilarious.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Ian.” Darcy eyes are rounded and wide, her heart pounding. The beginnings of panic spreads from her chest to her fingers, radiating in trembling waves as she says shakily, “You _know_ we’re not dating. I made this very, very clear from day one. Is this…” she shakes her head, looking at Ian as if coming to a full understanding that she hadn’t seen before. “Please don’t let this be the reason for the last few years.”

Ian’s eyes turn dark, looking at Darcy as if she’s grown three heads. “We skyped every single day. We text every single day. We mail each other bullshit gifts and when your brother died—what the hell else could it have been? You made it clear we’re _more_ than just friends.”

Darcy drops her face in her hands, hearing his words but unable to reconcile them in her mind. “I told you we were just friends. I _told_ you.”

“Well how was I supposed to know, Darcy!” Ian exclaims in disbelief, his voice rising. “You’re a walking contradiction! ‘I don’t like labels, Ian’, ‘I wish you were here instead of my dorm mates, Ian; you’re so much better than them’, ‘I don’t know how I’d get through this without you, Ian.’”

“Fuck you!” Darcy jumps to her feet, stepping away from him. “How dare you? How can you put this on me? I made it very clear how I felt about you from the beginning, Ian. The beginning. You knew I was having a hard time, you knew! You knew and all the times you…” Darcy can’t bring herself to say the words, a lump forming in her throat. “I think you should go.”

Ian stares at her, dumbstruck. She can’t get herself to look at him anymore, turning her face away and crossing her arms under her chest. From the corner of her eye she sees him stand and brush his jeans. “Unbelievable,” she hears him mutter. “You’re unbelievable and selfish, Darcy Lewis. This is _your_ fault.” He moves as if to step closer, but shakes his head and backs away. “You need help.”

She watches him until he’s entirely out of sight and off her grandmother’s land. The knot that had formed in her stomach during their argument now unfurls into a gaping and agonizing wound, her chest panging with every beat of heart. Numbly, Darcy walks until she’s at the front of her home, the porch steps creaking under her bare feet.

“Gran?” Darcy calls, her voice just short of cracking. “I think I need your hot cocoa. And a few hugs. This day’s been…really, really bad.” She seeks out her grandmother’s bedroom, frowning when she sees it empty. Sighing, Darcy wheels around and cuts through the living room, “Gran, the doctor said _bed rest_ , not—”

Darcy’s steps falter when she reaches the parlor. Her eyes trace the broken teacup next to their wooden, well-loved rocking chair, up to her grandmother’s still form.

“Gran?”

**-:-**

Jane finds her two hours later, phone in her hand. Red and blue lights reflect off Jane’s honey brown hair as she kneels down next to Darcy on the parlor’s carpet. Darcy doesn’t cry.

She cries a week later holding a jar, kitchen cabinets thrown open for dusting. Her hands shake as she dials Jane number, curling in on herself as she waits for Jane to come.

The front door slams open and Jane finds her in an instant, already pushing Darcy’s hair back and wiping her tear-streaked cheeks with her thumbs.

“Darcy? Darcy, what happened?”

Darcy, in between sobs, holds the jar to Jane’s face. Written in elegant, delicate print, are the words, _Cocoa for my baby doll._

**-:-**

Jane’s waiting for her in the driveway, smiling brightly. “Is it done?”

Darcy nods, heaving a sigh. “House is officially sold, furniture and all. You’re sure it’s okay for me to stay with you for a bit?”

Jane waves off Darcy’s words, linking their arms together. “You don’t need to ask, Darcy.”

“You know I’m still going to, though.”

Jane gives her a long-suffering look, and Darcy grins.

In the month since Jane found Darcy weeping on her kitchen floor, Darcy’s packed her things and put them in storage, deferred her loans payments to pay for the funeral, drank six different types of vodka on three separate nights, and held a yard sale of all her grandmother’s things—none of which could have ever, conceivably been done without Jane, who took a new approach to her mad scientist reputation. It still makes Darcy’s chin wobble a little when remembering the sight of Jane firing off insults to the cable guy and the inspection guy and the mortician as Darcy tried to reason with them. Jane is nothing short of a lioness, fierce and passionate with eyes that blaze both with fury and beauty, and Darcy thanks the universe every day for uniting them together.

When Jane pulls Darcy into a café instead of her van, Darcy raises an eyebrow. “Ooh, is this a treat for officially selling a home? Can I get the fancy muffin with a cakepop?”

Jane laughs, her voice like bells. It makes Darcy’s smile widen. The next guy to hear Jane’s true, melodic laugh won’t stand a chance. “Sure, that could be it too. But actually, it’s about something that’s sort of…come up.”

Darcy pauses as they reach a table. “Janie. You need to remember taking Zantac. GERD is serious and the doctor said you’ll burn through your throat if this keeps happening.”

“That doctor was a quack,” Jane sniffs as they sit down. “But it’s not about that. It’s about…well, my research at Culver. The one you were going to be an R.A. for in a few weeks?”

Darcy mirrors Jane’s smile, a sense of warmth spreading through her. “I’m so glad you’re going to be my boss again,” Darcy says dreamily, propping her chin on the palm of her hand. “As much as I despise going back to Culver, I don’t mind—hold on.” Darcy stares at Jane uncertainly. “Did you say ‘were gonna’?” Jane gives her a guilty look, an uncertain look, and Darcy pales. “Am I…am I getting replaced? Is this a ‘I’m sorry to let you go’ lunch? Is this a pity lunch?”

“No, no!” Jane reaches over to grab Darcy’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’d never do that, oh my god.”

“Jesus, woman!” Darcy presses her hand against her chest. “What exactly is going on here?”

For the first time in years, not since Jane first realized she had a mindstone in her, Jane looks apprehensive. It’s enough to worry Darcy. To her, Jane is a warrior first, everything else second. And if Jane is afraid…everyone else had better be afraid too.

“You know the board that’s been funding my research these last three years?” Jane watches Darcy carefully as she nods slowly.

“Yeah, the stuffy guys who first funded Erik…who funded you, who then funded me. What about them?’

“Well, recently they…they partnered with Teckom. And that affiliation now directly oversees the Physics department, which directly oversees me and funds my research. You remember the stuff Teckom did a few years back?”

Darcy furrows her brows in thought, short glimpses of memory flickering through her mind. “Yeah, they had a lot of lawsuits from environmental protection agencies, human rights groups…were in a huge fracking scandal just last spring, weren’t they? Hugely and grossly conservative in the worst ways possible.” She mutters under her breath, “So of course they’re loaded with cash…”

“Right. Exactly. Right.” Jane sighs, pressing her fingers against her temples. “There’s no easy way to say this. Darcy. I resigned from Culver.”

For several moments Darcy can only stare. Jane watches Darcy, as if waiting for a ticking bomb to explode, but Darcy’s mind has gone black.

After a minute, Jane tentatively prods, “Darcy? God, I broke you, didn’t I.”

Darcy’s mouth drops open. “Jane. You don’t have a job now, Jane. Jane, job. How can you science without a job, Jane.” Her eyes widen. “You’re my employer. _I_ don’t have a job now!” Darcy shakes her head, eyes wild. “Resigning from your job because you don’t like an affiliated partner is a pretty big overreaction, Jane!”

“I had to!” says Jane defensively. “All of us, all the other physicists in our research department made a conscious decision—hell, every physicist in the country made a promise never to let our principles be corrupted by who funds us. Teckom is serious trouble, Darcy, especially for physicists, you have no idea what their stance is on gravity fields…”

The rest of Jane’s explanation drowns out, and Darcy looks at Jane sharply. “How many of your colleagues resigned from Culver?”

Jane swallows thickly, eyes daring away from Darcy’s face. “The thing is…”

“How many, Jane?”

“Just…just me. And Horace.”

“Horace? The lousy T.A. Horace?” Darcy looks at Jane incredulously. “What the fuck, Foster!”

“Look, I couldn’t do it, Darcy! I—I can’t live with myself if the money that funded my next discovery of a pocket of dark matter came from people who caused so much suffering in the rest of the world. How could I, in good conscience, live with that?”

Darcy looks away, pressing her fingers to her closed eyelids. Internally, Darcy knows what Jane is saying is right. Darcy wouldn’t be able to live with it either. But after all that has happened, after the hellish five weeks Darcy has had to endure, Darcy cannot clamp down on the wave of disappointment and anxiety that now flows unchecked through her.

“I needed that job, Jane,” she says hoarsely, sounding broken to her own ears. “I had to sell Gran’s house and all her things to make sure I’m not destitute in the long run. I…”

Jane, still holding Darcy’s hand, squeezes it tightly. “You’re still employed, Darcy. If—if you want to be, that is.”

Darcy drops her hand from her eyes. She did not expect that. “What do you mean?”

Jane glances down at their hands, licking her lips nervously. “A few weeks back, I got a call from an alumni at Culver. A brilliant biochemist and nuclear physicist. He read my research paper that got published a few months ago on hypertonia in black holes. He really liked it…and he offered me a place in his lab.” Jane’s grip tightens on Darcy’s fingers. “I told him about the research you did these last two years in biochemical engineering, even your background in political science. He seemed to like that one a lot,” Jane gives a small smile. “My point is, if you want to, you can come work up there with me. He offered you a position as well. Kind of a two-package deal, you and I.”

Darcy is momentarily struck speechless. Jane had vied for her? Had gone so far to make sure Darcy had a place with Jane? That Darcy would…still have a job?

Breathing is suddenly difficult for Darcy as she sucks in a gasp, and a new look of worry overcomes Jane.

“Darcy?”

“I’m fine,” Darcy reassures as her eyes water. Darcy shakes her head. “God, Jane. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Jane smiles, eyes wide and hopeful as they start to fill as well. “So you’ll come? You’ll take the job?”

“I mean you’ll have to fill me on the rest of the details, but yes—holy shit, yes!” Darcy has to lean back and fan herself with her hand for a bit, overwhelmed beyond capacity. “You jerk. I have whiplash from the thirty different emotions you made me have just now. I can’t even think straight.”

Jane laughs, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “Imagine how I felt when I was offered the job the same week Teckom announced their partnership.”

“Who’s the alumni, by the way? I have to get him something on our first day, like a ‘thank-you’ pie or something. And where’s his lab?”

Jane bites her lip. “That’s another thing. It’s in New York.”

Darcy blinks. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Darcy.”

“No, no, it’s…” Darcy closes her eyes briefly and inhales. “You know, it’s really fine. Honestly. It might be nice.” At Jane’s look of concern, Darcy smiles. “I’m serious, Jane. It’s been years and I’m better now. It’ll be a new chapter this time. One I’ll get to write with you.”

Jane smiles a little, pressing her lips together. “I’m glad, Darcy.”

“Yup! So,” Darcy taps her fingernails on the table expectantly. “Who’s our mysterious benefactor? Or is he our pimp? Must be a real nerd to have read through your research paper.” Darcy cackles at Jane’s glare. “Fifty pages, Jane. Just remember that, and the number times I revised it for you.”

Jane shakes her head, then gives Darcy another signature ‘don’t be mad’ look—one she’s given a dozen times today. “He’s, well—his name is Dr. Bruce Banner.”

**-:-**

The drive from Virginia to New York takes seven grueling hours in Jane’s van, traffic and asshole drivers included. The further north they drive the more irritated Jane grows, slamming on her brakes more than once in the long hour they drove through New Jersey and growling “ _seriously?_ ” each time. Only when they reach New York does Jane lose her patience entirely, mouth in a tight-lipped frown with eyes flashing with pure anger at every car that cuts them off, and switching with Darcy into the passenger seat so Darcy can take over.

Darcy, of course, has no qualms with tailing every car that does them gross injustice. Nor does she, to Jane’s feigned disapproval, have any shame in letting them know which items they should shove up their asses.

Their apartment is little more than a glorified closet with a stove, but Jane and Darcy have had worse so neither care very much. Nothing could be worse than the time in Tromsø, where they were unceremoniously dumped in Norway to unsuspecting researchers by the now-deceased Phil Coulson. The time that followed that trip is one Darcy tries not to dwell on.

It takes a week for them to settle in. Darcy plugs in three different air fresheners and has incense and candles lit at every chance she gets, hoping to overpower the scent that Jane delicately calls ‘the city’. Darcy likes to think of it as ‘dead mouse-rat socks’. Food is also primarily from the Platters cart a few blocks down or the Chinese place across the street. But most of the time it’s just coffee.

“You know,” Jane notes as she watches Darcy scrub the tub for the third time this week, nursing a fresh cup of coffee in her hands as she leans against the doorjamb, “he offered us room and board. We can always accept.”

“Over—my—dead—body,” Darcy emphasizes each word with a violent scrub, wiping the sweat on her forehead with her sleeve. “It’s bad enough we have to work there. I thought Dr. Banner’s lab was off-site.”

“His main lab is here now,” Jane shrugs, bringing the cup to her lips and taking a sip. “I can think of a few reasons why.”

“So can I,” Darcy grunts. She leans back on her haunches and rips off the rubber gloves, tossing them on the sink. Hands on her hips, Darcy narrows her eyes. “If he hates the pie, I’ll tell him exactly how I feel about him working in that building.”

**-:-**

When Darcy and Jane enter the main lobby of their new workplace, they’re immediately greeted by a fidgety sort of man whose hand-wringing skills surpass even Jane’s. Darcy does a sweep up, starting from the dilapidated sneakers to the tight, purple shirt across his chest, all the way up to the spring of curls amassed on a very sallow, morose head. The bags under his eyes make a small kinship with ones under Darcy’s, and she can respect it.

“Dr. Foster,” the man looks genuinely pleased when he holds out his hand to shake Jane’s. Their hands clasp each other’s firmly, Jane mirroring the man’s very eager grin.

“Please, call me Jane,” she beams. She turns to Darcy. “This is Darcy Lewis. We spoke about her over the phone. Darcy, this is Dr. Banner.”

“Morning, doc,” Darcy flashes a tight smile at him as she shakes his hand, then holds out a white box with a blue bow to him. “I made you a pie.”

Bruce makes a little sound of surprise, and she swears she sees a little pink tinge on his ears as he gently takes the cardboard box. “Wow, I don’t even remember the last time someone baked me anything.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Jane warns, but Darcy’s already grinning.

“Well doc, that’s about to change. That there is a ‘thanks for hiring us’ pie. Extra sweet.”

“Call me Bruce,” he smiles as he tucks the pie box under his arm. “Biotech, right?”

“Yup,” Darcy smiles proudly. “Double major in Political Science and Biotechnology. Or Biochemical Engineering, depending on who you ask.”

“Got a good background on everything, then,” Bruce nods approvingly. “Just enough physics for Dr. Foster and just enough biochemistry for me.”

“Jane,” Jane corrects, and Bruce instantly apologizes and repeats her name, as if trying to memorize the informality. “And don’t let Darcy hear you going on about biochem. She still has nightmares, even though she graduated three months ago.” Jane throws Darcy a dry look. Darcy hisses.

Bruce glances down with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. I haven’t had, ah…colleagues like yourselves in a while, so I’m getting ahead of myself.” Bruce pauses to look between the women with thinly veiled excitement. “I have to tell you, I was real happy when you agreed to work here. Your thesis on neutrinos in a zero-sum algorithm in space-time relativity—wow. I stayed up all night reading it.”

Jane’s smile widens, and she launches into her theories on nuclear gravitation that Darcy’s heard a dozen different ways—all of which end in the same joke, “And if there’s any gravitational lensing, get me an optometrist!”

Bruce laughs loudly at Jane’s joke, slapping his thigh in a short staccato that matches his laugh, and Jane doesn’t hesitate to join in. She glances at Darcy for the briefest of seconds to send an excited ‘he finds me funny!’ look with a quick thumbs-up.

Bruce leads them to a private room just across the main lobby, closing the door behind them. Four chairs and a single wooden desk are the only bits of furniture in the room. “So, uh, I don’t usually like this part but it’s gotta be done, unfortunately.” He sits them down at the table and pulls out a file from the desk. “It’s a, ah, legal release. Exempting Stark Labs from any mishap or accident that may happen in your lab, but still offering support if anything serious or otherwise happens.”

Darcy narrows her eyes as she takes the proffered file. “How convenient.”

Jane shoots her a dark look.

“It’s a technicality, I promise it won’t get to that,” Bruce assures, fidgeting again. “I noticed you turned down the offer to cover living expenses?”

“We prefer not mooching off the boss upstairs more than necessary,” Darcy gives a saccharine smile, but turns into a wince when Jane digs her elbow into Darcy’s ribs.

“What she means is we don’t mind having the full New York experience,” Jane smiles pleasantly, eyes darting nervously to Darcy’s sulking expression. “We’re used to getting by on our own.”

Bruce nods understandingly. “That’s really admirable of you two. It’s an open offer, though, so if you ever change your mind just let me know.”

It takes an hour to get through the legalese of the forms. Nondisclosure papers, an oath of secrecy, a legally-binding contract that all laboratory findings must be credited to be founded at Stark Industries, and so on. Bruce seems to be keen on watching Darcy more closely than Jane, wincing every time Darcy scoffs or throws a glare his way for something particularly shitty in the forms (he visibly jolts and gives an apologetic frown every. Single. Time.). Despite this, Darcy decides no matter what her misgivings are for the building they’re in, or of the boss of the boss of the boss, Bruce Banner the man isn’t so bad. Not bad at all.

Their lab, as it turns out, is on the eighth floor. Not only that, but the entire floor is run by Bruce—a sentiment far more significant when Darcy sees just how massive the floor actually is. When they reach their lab, Darcy’s mouth all but drops.

“Oh my god,” Jane says breathlessly.

“Oh my god,” Darcy echoes in amazement.

Bruce hides a smile.

Jane gets to work immediately. _Immediately_. She doesn’t even bother taking off her coat; she runs—runs!—to the holograph module and gasps reverently at the interactive display that pops up before her. Her hands hover hesitantly over the base pairs that float in front of her, then lets her forefinger brush against a guanine. Then another. And another. She doesn’t stop until she has three feet of digitally corporeal DNA uncoiled before her, eyes full of wonder. Darcy smiles quietly.

**-:-**

“Did you see how many zeroes were on your salary?” Darcy whispers as they walk out of the lab seven hours later. It was a day well spent, surprising Darcy the most. Bruce had given her a lot of liberties in the lab than most research assistants would get, even encouraging Darcy to develop her own thesis for biotech—“To prepare you for when you start your Ph.D,” Bruce had explained, but with a gleaming twinkle in his eye. Oh yes. The good Doctor Banner and Darcy would get along just fine.

“Did you see how many were on yours?” Jane mutters, still flushed and a little shell-shocked from their work in the lab. “It makes the seven hour drive and our hell hole of an apartment worth it.”

Darcy nods appreciatively. At first, once Jane had explained everything about the research at the Tower (Darcy refuses to ever refer to it as the Avengers Tower—or worse, the Stark Tower—lest she punch something every time she remembers the name), Darcy had been reluctant to leave. To pack up and go, leave Virginia and the life she once loved dearly; when her grandmother still sang on the porch under the stars, pressing her hair into plaits and shouting at the gopher that liked to eat her peonies. When Ian was still her friend and she could call him in midday, eyes glistening with tears or mirth, depending on the day. It was a good life she’d be leaving behind.

But that life is no longer there, and that home is no longer hers to call it by the name Lewis, and...well, historically, where Jane went, good things followed. It’s one of many reasons why Darcy stayed with Jane for as long as she had.

These thoughts swimming in her head, Darcy didn’t notice the shout that came behind them. Jane nudged Darcy’s shoulder.

“Darce, Banner’s calling you.”

Darcy blinks, turning back. Bruce is jogging towards him, and Darcy slips her arm from Jane’s.

“Sorry,” he catches his breath, “I have something to speak about with Darcy. She’ll just be a few minutes.”

Jane and Darcy exchange a levied glance. “I’ll see you in the lobby?” says Jane.

Darcy nods, watching Jane take the elevator down. She turns to Bruce. “What did you need to see me about?”

Bruce shifts a bit uncomfortably. “Why don’t we step in the lab?” At her skeptical look he clarifies, “Privacy issues.”

Darcy nods slowly, following Bruce back to the lab. He sits down on one of the chair, watching his thumbs as they circle each other, a nervous habit he’s probably had for a long time. He inhales deeply before looking up at her.

“Part of our hiring process is a thorough background check. Not just criminal, but by-proximity association to The Avengers, Stark, Shield, Hydra…everything you probably know about already.”

“You’d be surprised how little I actually know,” Darcy admits, despite the pit of worry now clawing at her stomach at Bruce’s words. “Just the bare minimum, most of the time.”

Bruce nods, still watching her. “You know who I am then.”

Darcy says nothing. But she nods.

“I know who you are, too.”

Darcy blinks. Then narrows her eyes. Then she’s filled with righteous fury. “Don’t.”

“I won’t. I’m not here to say anything more or less about it.”

Darcy frowns, the flare of anger starting to ebb. “Then what?”

Bruce sighs again. “There’s a support group that my colleague supervises. His name’s Sam Wilson. He…holds support sessions for anybody who works in the Tower and has had some kind of trauma—war, avenging, lifestyle, death, you name it.” He waits a beat as Darcy stares at him wordlessly. “I heard what happened to your brother. And how difficult it’s been since.”

Darcy gives him a murderous look. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

Bruce nods. “You’re right, I don’t. I don’t plan to know more either, not unless you decide you want to talk to me. I just…” he breathes in evenly through his nose, shutting his eyes briefly before looking at her again. “I used to be a very angry person. I’m still angry sometimes. But I found that talking about it, with people who went through the same stuff you did…it helps. A lot.” Bruce glances down at his hands again. “I don’t do this, usually. I know it’s not my place. But you’re a brilliant woman; I saw that firsthand today. And—well, I’d hate to see someone go down the same path I did.”

Darcy swallows thickly, but can’t find her voice to say anything back at him. Her face burns, not out of a sense of shame but of anger that simmers beneath her skin. Anger, and loss.

“Meetings are at six, first floor. Room one-fifteen. You just have to sit. If you want to.”

“I should hate you,” Darcy replies quietly.

Bruce smiles. “I already do.” He stands a little awkwardly, tucking his hand in his pockets. “There’s resources out there. Don’t be afraid to use them.”

“Can I leave now?”

Bruce nods, already turning away back to his desk.

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When Darcy catches up with Jane in the lobby, Jane asks, “What did he say?”

Darcy shrugs, mouth set in a grim line. “Nothing important.”

**-:-**

It is.

Darcy’s stomach doesn’t stop fluttering on the trip down the elevator. The day at the lab had gone quickly now that Bruce joined in their combined research, offering them bits of his own findings. It also went fast because Jane was bent on making her own equipment, and Darcy loves this part the most—the actual, physical creation of their tools, things Jane imagined from her own mind and experience, and Darcy getting to put her hands to use. Darcy if anything is a visuospatial learner, and Jane’s science always make more sense when Darcy sees the process.

Darcy wishes there was a process to help her reconcile the fact that she lied to Jane a half hour ago. It makes her stomach churn, escalating the vaguely ill feeling that already bubbles inside of her. “This is silly,” she mutters, pressing her hands against her abdomen to calm the nerves fluttering there. The elevator _dings_ , doors sliding open, and Darcy anxiously makes her way down the hall.

She checks the time on her phone. An hour late. Maybe she shouldn’t bother. She doesn’t want to disrupt anything. They’ll notice her the moment she walks through—what if it’s dead silence when she bursts in? Darcy doesn’t think she can quite handle that level of mortification yet. Not until she’s worked here for more than a week. Not until she doesn’t die a little every time she steps through the Tower doors.

Room one-fifteen is on her left. Darcy swallows hard, hand trembling as it reaches for the door. She takes a long, shaky breath. This is okay. This will be okay. She’s Darcy Lewis. She survived organic chemistry. She can sit in a support group. A no-strings-attached, free support group. It might be helpful. And if not, she can always leave.

Darcy opens the door.

She fills with dread when she’s met with electrified silence. Before her is a large group all sitting in a semicircle around a handsome black man with a shapely beard and a fitted vest, one leg propped against his knee.

Unlike what Darcy had feared, though, they’re not silent because of her interruption. Rather, they’re staring very intensely at a mousy sort of man sitting opposite of the handsome man. Darcy’s eyes dart over to a woman with long, reddish brown hair and a vivid red jacket when she exhales sharply. Darcy’s taken aback when she sees the young woman crying. Next to her are two men; one has bleached hair and seems the same age as the woman, who wraps his arm around her shoulders and mutters something in a language Darcy couldn’t understand. On her other side is a man with chin-length hair that slightly covers his eyes, body stiff and hunched over.

Suddenly the long-haired man jumps from his seat, takes two strides, and throws a punch at the man everyone had just been glaring at.

“Shit!” Darcy exclaims and everyone in the circle is now standing, trying to pull the long-haired man off the other. Chairs topple over and she hears weak moaning coming from the guy huddled on the floor. The long-haired man doesn’t resist when several hands pull him away, but the pure, unchecked violence that reflects in his eyes is unmistakable. Darcy doesn’t think she’s ever seen anybody look at someone with as much disgust as he does.

“You’re a piece of _shit_ , Stephens,” the long-haired man growls, towering threateningly over the whimpering man. “If I see you in here again, I will kill you.” The man kicks him, and Darcy didn’t even realize she’s this close now, having unconsciously walked over to the commotion.

“Dude what the hell?” Darcy says angrily. “He’s already down! Leave him alone.”

The long-haired man’s eyes snap to hers, and Darcy staggers a little at the full blast of rage now directed at her. Bruce is suddenly at their side, pulling Darcy away by her arm.

“Who the fuck is this?” he says bluntly.

“She’s new,” Bruce explains, his grip on her elbow gentle but firm.

The long-haired man doesn’t spare Darcy another glance. “Get her out of here.” He stalks off, back to where the young man and woman stand. Darcy’s gently ushered out by Bruce, never noticing the woman with the red jacket watching her leave.

**-:-**

 Darcy avoids Bruce and Jane’s lab the next day, telling Jane she’s going to work on her thesis in a smaller lab room Bruce set up for her. Darcy takes stock of the equipment and materials for the first two hours, perking up a bit when she sees a centrifuge that doesn’t look like it came from prehistoric times.

By noon Darcy has written three lines and six squiggles in the margin of her notebook. How Jane ever had so many ideas to have multiple, tested theses every year, Darcy will never understand. Just figuring out _one_ that she can potentially experiment and research on is giving her a headache.

She doesn’t tell Jane about the support group or the violence she witnessed in the three minutes she was there. After Bruce led her out, Darcy hightailed out of the Tower and back to her apartment, brushing off Bruce’s attempts at explaining what happened. It was enough. Darcy doesn’t think she’ll go back to the support group after all.

Darcy’s eyes droop a little as she draws another squiggle in the margin. Coffee. Definitely time for coffee. She grabs the empty mug on her desk and heads for the break room.

She frowns once she gets there, staring at the empty shelf where the K-cups should have been. There isn’t even any water. “Seriously?” Darcy groans, mug dangling by the handle on Darcy’s forefinger. She heads back out and pauses at the elevator. She remembers seeing a sign for the cafeteria on the ninth floor. Surely caffeine is supplied there too.

“Ninth floor it is,” Darcy brightens, and gets on the platform.

The ninth floor is markedly more cheerful than the eighth floor—no flickering lights, no stale smell of acetone, no random burst of heat coming from a grumpy generator. It looks like something from a posh hotel, all marble floors and soft ocre walls, fancy ceiling architecture and ribboned wall corners that swoop up in a delicate, Grecian style. Darcy never does see a sign for the cafeteria. Instead she sees a full kitchen—a kickass island kitchen with shiny appliances and a whole table just for coffee.

“Are you following me?”

Darcy wheels around. The woman from yesterday, with the long brown hair and the blazing red jacket, is smiling at her. Darcy laughs nervously.

“No! Uh, I’m from the eighth floor and we don’t have coffee. I thought maybe there was a cafeteria here…”

“No cafeteria. Just kitchen. We have coffee,” the woman nods in understanding. Her voice is accented, sounding both droll and eloquent. “Have you used a Stark coffee machine before?”

“Uh…no.”

The woman grins, baring her teeth. “I’ll show you. Pietro prefers seeing people make a mess, but he is not here.”

Darcy follows the woman like a docile, timid kitten, unsure what exactly is happening, or how she managed to get a lesson in coffee prep from the woman she saw yesterday night at a support group. She didn’t think she’d be seeing her or anyone else at that meeting ever again, at least not while Darcy was on the clock. But life is exciting like that.

“I’m Wanda,” she holds out her hand, and Darcy shakes it with a smile.

“Darcy. We saw each other yesterday at the meeting. Well, I saw you, at least.”

“Before it went to shit,” Wanda nods, shrugging. Darcy bites back a laugh. “I saw you too. It is not always that way. My _brat’ya_ , my brothers, defended me. But it is not always so bad.” She hands Darcy a warm mug of coffee. “I hope we haven’t scared you away.”

_One has, sort of. And not so much scared as pissed me off._ “It takes more than that to scare me,” Darcy says honestly, taking a sip. “Oh. Oh wow. That’s good.” Darcy licks her lips, glancing around the kitchen casually, lighting up little when she sees a stand mixer. “So those two guys are your brothers?”

“One is brother by blood. He is my twin.” Wanda tinkers with the Stark machine, fixing herself her own cup of coffee, “One is brother in arms, and in suffering.”

Darcy thinks of the long-haired man. That’s probably the suffering brother.

Something beeps in Wanda’s pocket, and she sighs. “I must go now,” Wanda gives Darcy a genuine smile. “I hope to see you again?”

“Yeah, sure,” Darcy says quickly, trying and failing to hide her excitement. “I work in the lab one floor down with Dr. Banner. It’s easy to find—you’ll hear a lot of muffled yelling coming from my friend Jane.”

Wanda beams at Darcy, and her heart flutters in that new, tentative way when one knows something beautiful is about to bloom between two people. Only three days in and Darcy’s already made a friend.

“I’ll see you, Darcy. Come to the meetings. They’re good.”

Darcy forces a smile as Wanda leaves the kitchen. First Bruce, now Wanda. Does Darcy have a sign saying ‘damaged goods’ tacked on her forehead?

Shaking her head, Darcy quickly makes her way back to the eighth floor and gathers her things from the vacant lab. She’s been avoiding Jane and Bruce long enough.

To her surprise, she doesn’t hear the usual excited shouting as she nears the lab. She gently opens the door, just enough to see Jane holding up her hands in an exaggerated hand gesture, making a _zoom_ motion with one hand. Darcy hears a warm chuckle and pauses. It isn’t Bruce’s.

Jane’s eyes flicker to the door and spots Darcy. “Darcy! Come on in! I was wondering what kept you. Barnes, this is my friend and research assistant, Darcy Lewis.”

Darcy steps fully inside, smiling sheepishly at having been caught. God, whoever Jane’s talking to will have this first encounter permanently ingrained in his memory. _Darcy Lewis, resident creeper._

Darcy’s smile disappears when she sees the long-haired man sitting on a bench. _Her_ work bench.

They stare at each other for a bit before the long-haired man glances away, shifting awkwardly. Jane doesn’t seem to catch the strange tension. “This is James Barnes. Bruce recommended me to him since Barnes wants to learn up on my field, but he can’t decide whether to start with astronomy or physics. I think physics is a good place to start and go from there, don’t you think Darcy?”

Darcy shrugs slightly, no longer interested in meeting Barnes’s stare. He clears his throat.

“’Fraid Miss Lewis and I already met in an unpleasant way. I dismissed someone who was being uncooperative on the first floor.”

Darcy’s ire spikes. “Dismissed? You beat up a guy and literally kicked him while he was down and out.”

“Darcy,” Jane chides, her voice mixed with confusion.

“No, she’s right.” Barnes now looks straight at Darcy. “I have a temper.”

“Tell it to the guy with the broken nose.”

Barnes’s eyes narrow. “Our group has no room for assholes who blame and trigger the victims who’re trying to recover,” Barnes says bluntly, barely restraining his anger. “This time last year two of our agents put bullets in themselves because someone here, on the quiet, was egging them on. I won’t let that happen again.”

Darcy quiets, glancing at Jane with thinly veiled panic, who is starting to piece Barnes’s words together and come to the very conclusion Darcy didn’t want her to know. Barnes seems to sense the unspoken question between the two women and immediately ducks his head, closing in on himself. “I should go.”

“You’re coming to the dinner tomorrow night, right?” Jane asks, walking him out. “The one Stark invited us all to?”

Barnes nods slowly. Jane smiles. “I’ll see you Thursday to pick up on elementary physics. Tuesdays and Thursdays, right?”

Barnes nods again. He barely glances at Darcy before lowering his eyes again. “Steve and Natasha want to meet you too, I’ll…let them know you’re up for it. Bruce talks a lot about you and Miss Lewis. Good things.” He looks at Darcy again.

“Great! We’re always here, right Darcy? Tell them they can stop by whenever.”

Darcy doesn’t respond, staring back at Barnes. He watches her until the door closes before him.

Jane rounds on Darcy. “What. The hell. Was that.”

**-:-**

“Jane, I really don’t want to go,” Darcy protests for the tenth time as Jane taps her foot, waiting outside Darcy’s stall.

“You think I want to? It’s a formality. We have to play nice to make sure we don’t get the boot one year out.”

Darcy opens the bathroom stall door, hopping on one foot as she hikes up the black tights as far as they would allow. Jane presses her lips together, fighting a smile. “I’m not going to mingle. Not more than I need to. You know how I feel about these people. It was hard enough accepting this job knowing that we’re being funded by the head dumbass Avenger. How is that any better than Teckom, Jane? How?”

Jane frowns, giving Darcy the same look she gives every time they argue about this. Unimpressed. “Because despite what you think, we had no other job and we’re technically employed by Dr. Banner, not the head dumbass Avenger. And the Avengers didn’t brutally wipe out an entire endangered wildlife population and contaminate the drinking water in Kharian.”

“Who do you think pays Bruce, Jane?”

Jane glares. “Stop stalling. We’ve been through all this already. Just stay for the dinner, stick around for fifteen minutes and then hail a cab.”

Darcy closes her mouth and checks herself in the mirror by the sinks. Since Darcy’s move from Virginia she no longer has nice, dinner formal clothes, but a green sweaterdress and tights will have to do. Jane is no better; she’s still in the same clothes she walked in the building with, navy jeans and a floral shirt. The only change she bothered to make was changing her shoes to pumps.

“I _hate_ pumps,” Jane grouses as they step in the elevator.

They go up to the tenth floor. The double doors part to reveal a dimly lit lounge, and at least fifty bodies intermingling with each other. Darcy tries not to get sick on the cashmere poufs.

Bruce walks over to introduce them to people whose names she’ll never remember. Jane ends up attached to them (“I’ve always wanted to study molecular genetics but I like things on a bit of a larger scale, if you know what I mean”), and Darcy realizes she’s two glasses more sober than she should be.

The bar is stocked well, and Darcy grins when she recognizes the girl bartending. “Wanda!”

“Trying to get drunk already, Darcy?” Wanda smiles warmly. “I am glad Stark invited you to this party. I myself dislike large gatherings like these.”

“Same,” Darcy agrees, perching herself up on the barstool. “Girl’s gotta hustle if she wants to get those paychecks, though.”

Darcy’s hair suddenly rustles, as if blown by the wind, and she yelps when a voice says next to her, “Hustling? I’m not familiar with that, will you explain?”

The boy with the top of his hair bleached is smiling at her pleasantly, sitting on the barstool next to her. “Pietro!” Wanda scolds. “Stop showing off!” She gives Darcy a wry look. “My twin brother. He likes to toy with newer recruits.”

“What, like you’ll tug my pigtails and throw dirt at me to show you’re interested?” Darcy deadpans, and Wanda throws back her head in a laugh. Pietro’s pleasant smile doesn’t waver.

“If that is what Americans do, I’ll even throw in a frog.”

Darcy snorts, and Pietro laughs with her. Halfway through Wanda, Pietro, and Darcy’s conversation she realizes this isn’t nearly as bad as she thought it would be. She never orders a drink, but swaps places with Wanda to show them the Darcy Cocktail that brought down many a man.

“I saw you the other day at the meeting,” Pietro mentions, giving her an appraising look as Darcy drops in some ice in a glass. “I’ve never seen anybody talk to James this way. Very impressive.”

Wanda nods approvingly, watching Darcy’s movements behind the counter with fascination. “Most are too intimidated. He has quite the reputation.”

“What reputation?” Darcy furrows her brow. “Is he someone important?”

“Not at all, ma’am.”

Darcy freezes. Wanda smiles widely and Pietro shifts a little, as if suddenly shy. Barnes stands before them, hands in his pockets, eyes flickering towards Darcy’s.

“Barnes,” Darcy says finally. She glances at the glass in front of her. “Would you like a drink?”

He nods, replying quietly, “I overheard the cocktail you invented.”

Darcy raises a brow, but acquiesces. Wanda and Pietro exchange a silent conversation, and within seconds Wanda mumbles something in Russian, making a pained expression while clutching her head. Pietro is at her side in an instant, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“My sestra is not feeling well,” Pietro says to Darcy. “We’ll sit over there on the chaise for a while.”

Darcy misses the ushering gesture Wanda makes at Barnes as she walks away, nor does Darcy see the way he turns scarlet for several minutes as she preps his drink.

Darcy pushes the glass to Barnes, and his lips twitch in a smile. “Thanks.”

They fall into uneasy silence. Would it be too obvious if she slinks away now? Darcy takes her first tentative step when Barnes catches her attention.

“Heard you were from Virginia.”

Darcy presses her lips, nodding. “Yup. It’s about as exciting as it sounds.”

Barnes nods. “I dunno what I’d do there. Too much quiet.”

“As opposed to New York where the world’s next monster pops up every other day?”

Barnes gives her a look. “It’s something to do, at least.”

Darcy huffs, shaking her head. “Did I say something?” Barnes asks her.

“No, it’s just typical. The hero worship is real here, isn’t it.” At his blank stare, Darcy adds, “For the Avengers.”

“Do you have a problem with them?”

“No. But I have a problem with the sentiment.”

Barnes leans back, drink forgotten. “What is it you think the Avengers do?”

Darcy shrugs. “The last I bothered reading about them was after the Battle of New York. Then I was done. I can’t say I have a good or bad opinion, but I’m not counting my lucky stars either.”

“Yet you work for the Avengers.”

“I work for Jane,” Darcy narrows her eyes. “And Dr. Banner.”

“Who dated an Avenger, and who is an Avenger, who are employed by an Avenger. Hate to break it to you, doll, but you’re in the wrong place.”

“I just think it’s pretty fucked up that it’s your faces on lunchboxes when hundreds of people give their lives fighting a fight they never wanted to.” Darcy looks away in disgust. “What would you know, though. All of you came here with luck and fortune on your side, right?”

Barnes’s hand clenches and unclenches, eyes darkening. “You think I was blessed with good fortune or luck?” Darcy stares back silently. “You know nothing about fighting. You know nothing about war, about fighting because you had no choice. Nobody wants to be here, but we are because it’s what we have to do.”

“And what is it you do?”

Bucky blinks. “We save people. We save the world.”

“By a group of people nobody likes,” Darcy snaps angrily.

“It’s not a fucking popularity contest, it’s either you live or you die,” he barks back at her. Darcy’s shaking, livid. “You think we chose this? I didn’t choose to get drafted in the Second World War. I didn’t choose to get tortured for seventy years by a Nazi organization, to be weaponized and violated until I couldn’t remember my own name. But the moment I could make a choice, I decided I’d never let anyone, _anyone_ , go through what I did. And that’s what I do every goddamn day in this tower.”

They stand off then, looking at each other mutely. Barnes is the first to break his gaze away, taking a deep breath, but Darcy is frozen in shock.

Is…is this...is _he_ …?

“Sorry, ma’am,” Barnes says quietly. “That was disrespectful of me. My ma would have my hide for that.” He attempts a smile, and holds out his hand. “Let’s call it even.”

Darcy stares at the hand reached out towards her, but doesn’t make a move to shake it. He withdraws it slowly, lowering his eyes.

A disembodied voice echoes in the lounge that announces dinner is served. Barnes disappears along with the crowd that shuffles towards the dining room. Darcy walks numbly around the bar.

That was James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky Barnes. The Howling Commando that Darcy learned about in her first year at Culver. The one she, blinded by her infuriation and refusal to see past the shadows that mar his face and the hair that falls over his eyes, failed to recognize.

She has to leave. She has to get out of here. Darcy runs to the elevator, pulling out her phone and firing a quick text to Jane before walking out the building and hailing a cab. As it pulls away from the Tower, Darcy presses her forehead against the window.

_I’m in hell_ , she thinks, glancing up at the tower’s logo. _And its name is Stark._

 

**Author's Note:**

> And there it is! What do you think? A worthy, modern reimagining of N&S? A lot of changes were made. Lady friendships dominate. And instead of a mill town setting I made it a counceling setting, because I think it would be more relevant and can be something Darcy actively participates in, due to the mystery of her past. I will be treating this topic with utmost care and reverence, as someone who struggled and continues to struggle with mental health issues, it's something that should be taken seriously.
> 
> Oh and this fic firmly disregards Pietro's death in Age of Ultron. Shhh it never happened.
> 
> I should also note that all scientific gibberish in this fic is purely that. Even though I'm _technically_ a scientist (heyy biological sciences) and have a background in all the subjects that could lead to being a astrophysicist or a biochemist, I have the bare minimal knowledge to those fields and just kinda throw information together to make it sound plausible as possible. Fun little fact :P
> 
> If you liked what you just read, please let me know what you thought! I hope you liked this so far, LaTessitrice! xx


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